Brkn Wrers
by ScreamChosen
Summary: Our favorite character gets captured. Can you guess who? Torture, rape, all around ew. Probably rated X in some countries. But for now, NC-17..I guess.
1. Chapter 1

"We caught her–the slayer."

"She took a lot out of us, boss. And took even more of us out!"

The man stood from behind his desk and looked at the fragile looking slayer, bound, gagged and obviously beaten in front of him. With a smirk, he walked from behind his desk, approaching her. She cowered before him, and that only made his smirk look more triumphant. Clasping his hands together, he looked at his two henchmen; proud for once.

"Good. Now, make sure she gets the best of care. And don't taste or fuck her. If you do, I'll know and you'll all be destroyed."

"Yes, sir."

The two said in unison and picked the weak slayer up, carrying her towards her next destination–the dungeon. She struggled unsuccessfully, but her squirms and whimpers earned her another beating. Once they were done with her, which took a good hour, she couldn't walk, and was barely conscious.

"Stop that, would ya, bitch?"

"C'mon. Fucks wrong with her?"

One punch to her face silenced her, but her movements didn't cease. Dropping her to the ground, one lifted his foot up and slammed it into her ribs, eliciting a muffled scream from the small girl.

"Hehe, she likes it rough, eh?"

"Hah, yup. Lets give her what he wants."

She never felt such pain before in her life. Her rips broke, almost with the first few hits to her petite body, and she was bleeding from all places. Her clothes were torn, but she couldn't worry about that at that very moment, she had to fend off her attackers the best she could. The only consolation she had, was the fact that their boss just told them they couldn't rape her. So her soul and will would be able to stay intact for the time being. They almost broke both her arms at once trying to hold her down, so she stopped fighting. Her arms and legs were her only weapons, and if she lost them, she'd be in deep shit. So she didn't fight. And it almost cost her, her life.

Once she regained consciousness once again, she was lying on a cold floor, no longer tied up or gagged. Her eyes fluttered opened continuously and she tried to survey her surroundings, but the strength in her arms and body hadn't returned to her yet, so she couldn't get a clear view of where she was. Before the footsteps down the hall approached her, she slipped into her painful oblivion again.

Serj, was the most feared underground being in the world. He was sent to Los Angeles to help give the slayer everything she deserved. And from what he heard, she deserved a lot. Walking down the dark deserted hallway, he came upon hundreds of cages, with women, children, men, demons–everything imaginable, was locked up in this one basement; the dungeon. But at this moment, Serj only had one conquest this time–the slayer.

He knew she was awake when he first walked in, but then when he approached her prison, she was unconscious again. He figured it would be easier for now to have her asleep then awake. She'd put up less of a fight. Serj sauntered over to the front of Buffys prison door, to see her laying there helpless.

"How cute. She can be taken advantage of..so easily. Im glad."

He was not a man, nor a demon. He was a being that was classified under 'Indestructible'. He worked for either good or evil, and this time, evil was paying him more. Opening the door to her cell, without a key or a struggle, he walked inside with her and it locked on its own behind him. One movement of his hand and she was on her back. A flick of his wrist and her clothes were gone. Did the party start so soon? His eyebrows rose in amusement, looking down at the, almost twenty-eight year old. She looked so child-like; small. But she was built, and for the oldest slayer, he was surprised that she still worked out.

He circled her slowly, examining her body carefully. Her breasts were full, and a perfect shape and size, her ribs were obviously broken, and almost sticking out of her skin, so he ignored that, and traveled downward. Her stomach was tight and taut–all muscle. Skipping over the obvious prize, his eyes scanned lower, admiring her further. Her legs were long and lean, she was a giveaway for a fast runner. And her feet were small, which meant normal manacles would probably not hold her. A small complication, but he'd make due.

He took one step toward her, but stopped. With a somewhat startled expression, he looked around and then his eyes set on a dark, trembling figure in the cell across from her. The figure was also naked, and obvious had been there quite a while–bleeding, bruised, and beaten to the extreme. Serj had no doubt that the women at the facility didn't already chain this one up and have their way with the poor soul. But this one was obviously unwilling. Knuckles were visibly white and blood trickled down each hand. There were marks around the neck, wrists and ankles–proof of rape and torture. Serj could see perfectly from where he was, but then paid no mind. That prisoner was of no concern to him. He needed to take care of her.

She whimpered a bit in her unconscious state, obviously being able to feel the person across from her. She mumbled, but Serj didn't catch what she had whispered. He couldn't worry about that. He had to finish. His eyes rested on the brown patch of hair that laid at the juncture of her thighs. Being neither human or demon, it took him a moment to figure out that the blonde on her head was not as natural as the brown coarseness between her small legs. His head tilted to the side as he looked to the wall, chains appearing and then finding that she had been captive just as easily again, he smirked a bit, pleased with himself.

He held out his hand and a whip slid in place. The whiteness of his skin made him look more pale then he actually was in the horrible lighting of the cell. His teeth glistened when he smiled, looking like a row of huge pearls, and his eyes were round and brown, matching the color of his hair. Standing at a whopping six foot seven, he overpowered even the strongest opponent. And that made him worth the cost.

He cracked the whip loudly in the air, as almost as if it was a threat of some sort, but neither the slayer or the prisoner across from her flinched. Had they been used to this? He figured maybe they had both been subjected to torture in the past. But the other prisoner would be crying once that whip snapped, for obvious reasons.

Walking towards the small blonde, he cracked the whip against her stomach, and she jolted right up with a scream. The blood from her face was long gone–someone must have cleaned her up before hand–but she was still bruised. She had a gash on her forehead and she had a large purple eye. She had bruises all along her face, down her neck where it looked like she was strangled, and on her arms, where she was obviously held down. Her legs were horribly bruised, and her slayer healing didn't seem to be kicking in at all.

He raised the whip in the air again, only to realize that she closed her eyes again, knowing that her pain hadn't ended yet. The whip sliced through the air again, hitting her square in the hip, but only a whimper came from her. But, he knew she was holding back. Eventually, she'd have no fight left in her. Looking at the places he hit her, he saw the two red welts that began to form on her slightly tanned skin. When she opened her eyes again, he noticed the tears that she refused to let fall lingering there. She was in a great deal of pain.

But he would not go soft. Not when he was being paid so greatly. He had instructions; to break her in. And then god knows what they had planned for her. Would they do to her what they did to the others? He didn't know, and it wasn't his business to find out either. His eyes darkened, and his hand raised again, wacking her with the whip against both breasts at once. He knew that would surely make her scream, and he was right. But what surprised him, was that she was one who liked pain–her nipples hardened at the hit. His eyebrow raised once more as he walked to her, grabbing one breast in his hand and squeezing. She half groaned, half moaned. His touch was cold, so it was oddly familiar to her; he could tell.

He knew her past lovers were dead–vampires. He also knew he was the one, for now, that had the advantage. Squeezing her soft mound of flesh, he ran the whip up her thigh, then hit her with it.

"Do you like pain, slayer?"

Her eyes open slowly at the calmness of his voice. Her green orbs swirled with the confusion of what she was feeling–pain, pleasure, unclean. Like how she felt with Spike. She sniffled, and whimpered softly as she nodded her head just a bit.

"Say it."

He commanded as the whip moved to the front of her, and played with her coarse curls. Her stomach clenched tightly, knowing he was going to either rape her, with or without the whip, or strike her there and make her bleed like..well, like she did before.

"Yes."

Her voice came out as a raspy whisper, hoarse from crying and screaming. She instantly regretted that she answered his question. She was giving into the enemy and helping their cause..whatever that may be.

"Good."

He whispered to her, pushing the whip more towards her center, and making its way through her curls.

"Cause I like to give it."

He rubbed her clit, ever so gently, with the tip of the rough leather. He was pleased to hear her let out a moan, and close her eyes. Her head was stuck up in the clouds, because she seemed to have missed the part where he said he liked to give pain. He tapped on the little nub, with some force, and received a throaty groan from her. She liked it.

"Slayer?"

He asked softly again as he began to slide the harsh weapon between her slick folds. Her eyes opened, almost in shock to the sensations she was receiving, and to the fact that he just called to her.

"Have you ever been fucked against your will?"

Serj watched her, now slightly green orbs swirl again, but now he knew it was for a completely different reason. Swallowing the pain that was about to erupt from her, she shook her head.

"N-no."

"Are you lying?"

"N.."

She was about to lie, but she saw the look on his face and knew that he already knew about her attempted rape, so it was really no use.

"Yes."

"Who?

"Sp-.."

She didn't say his name. She couldn't say his name. Bad memories, good memories, shame, dominance, submissiveness, all came flooding back to her, and her mind became a wave pool of both her past lovers. Oh, god, where were they when she needed them? She was in LA, where was Angel? And Spike? Well, she saw Spike die, so he couldn't help her much, even if he wanted to. And then again, she hadn't seen Angel in so long, he probably didn't even know she was in LA. With a defeated sigh, she shook her head, an unwanting cry passed her lips as she thought of the night Spike almost raped her. Serj wacked her inner thighs slightly, spreading them apart. She cried and looked down, watching him. What did he really want from her? Why did he keep asking pointless questions.

"Who fucked you, slayer?"

"He...he didn't. He tried."

"Who?"

"William."

"William who?"

Just let it out, you'll feel better. At least, thats what she told herself.

"William..the Bloody."

"Spike, eh?"

He smirked slightly and slowly slid the whip inside of her, and with a surprised squeal, she tried to maneuver her body so that she pulled away, and not pushed down. He knew what he could do to make her give in, but he had to ask more.

"Did you scream?"

"..Yes.."

"Did he hurt you?"

"It..it bruised. I..my leg.."

"So, the slayer got a boo-boo. What a shame."

She was tired of this. She wanted to go home, she wanted clothes, she wanted the whip out of her aching pussy. And most of all, she wanted Angel. He had popped into her mind when Spike came up, and now? Angel was her only source of comfort. She wriggled, trying to pull her body off the whip, but it was no use.

"Why are you doing this? Please..let me go.."

"You cant go. Im here to make sure you're ready."

"Ready? For what?"

"Them."

And he left it at that. He wouldn't answer anymore of her stupid, pointless questions. Not that his were any better, but he was the one in charge. Sliding the whip out, he tossed it to the ground, and she watched it disappear with extremely wide eyes. She knew there had to be a lot more then just that. And she was right. Next to Serj appeared a weird looking wannabe rocking horse, but with no horse parts. Only a stick on the top of it. And then there was a bag–it clanged, so there were metal objects inside. She knew this was not good.

The chains were gone from her hands and feet, but she had no control over her body. He did. He looked up at the ceiling, and made chains come down. Her body went right over to them, and her hands were locked up. She tried to free herself, or pull the chains down from the ceiling, but it was no use. Either she wasn't strong enough, or she was just fighting an endless battle. He chuckled at her failed attempts to escape, it was quite entertaining to watch. Wagging a slim finger at her he shook his head and took the see-saw on a stick and brought it to her. She didn't know what that was, or what he was going to do with it. But once he put it where he wanted it, she understood his intentions. He slid it right between her legs. Whimpering softly, she felt herself being lowered downward, towards the weird contraption.

"I hope you have fun, slayer."

"What? What are you doing?"

Oh, she was starting to understand. And she wished that she didn't. He watched as her body got closer and closer to his..'toy'. Once she got close enough, he grabbed her hips and tugged her down onto it. It was a sick, twisted, dildo toy. She screamed at the top of her lungs and looked down; her legs were shaking and she could feel blood dripping down her thighs. She closed her eyes and tried to pull herself off, but she couldn't. It was impossible to the extreme.

"Why are you doing this?"

She sobbed, having no choice but to just balance herself on the balls of her feet, trying to ignore the pain she felt with the dildo inside of her.

"I was ordered to. Now, ride it."

"No, it hurts."

The moment the words passed her lips, she knew she would regret it. Again, from out of nowhere, a paddle appeared in his hand. She squirmed at the sight, trying to get away.

"No, don't! Please!"

She knew she was going to get hit, and she also knew he was none too gentle when he hit her. Bouncing from foot to foot, she cried, wanting nothing more then to be freed again. How did she get into this situation anyway? Serj, ignoring her, went around behind her, and wacked her ass with the paddle, leaving a huge red mark. The impact of the hit thrusted her onto the dildo and she screamed; her body moving back and forth on it from the impact.

"Ride it. Thats what they intended for you. And they'll do worse later."

"I cant...I cant..it hurts so bad.."

She sobbed, her head rolling from side to side helplessly. If he was anyone else, his patience would have already ran out. But he had no patience, no concept of guilt, remorse, love, good or evil. He knew just what he was told and what he has seen.

"Then they'll come. They'll do worse."

He was warning her. But her body was so tired, she wasn't sure she could handle much more. Slowly, she rode the weird dildo–her soul and will wasn't as intact as she thought it was. The bosses were pleased. Serj and his things were gone, and Buffy was unconscious again.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer- Joss Whedon. I am no one compared to the devil himself.

Summary- Buffy gets kidnapped by some nasty people after Sunnydale goes kaput. Everyone thinks she's dead. How will she escape?

Rating- NC-17 and everything above. This is seriously a fucked up fic. Please don't read it if you're underaged.

Timeline- After season 7. Angel has Connor as an adult, Cordelia and Connor are not dating and neither are Angel and Cordelia. They are still in the Hyperion, not the Wolfram and Hart building. Anything unfamiliar I have edited. Some of season 7 I messed around with, so please don't be to confused.

AN- This chapter and beyond will his descriptive rape, torture, and violent scenes. Please do not continue on if you cannot stomach or do not like these kinds of situations.

AN2- I forgot to do this with the first chapter. Sorry.

Word on the street was that the slayer was dead. He had cried for days, unlike the first time he had heard of her death. The first time, he had ran away from everything, going where none of the world could find him. This time, there was so much that he lost. She had promised to come to him when she was baked, no longer cookie dough. She never even got the chance. During the battle with the first, she was separated from the rest of the group, along with Spike. None of the Scoobies realized that either of them were missing, and when Sunnydale began collapsing in on itself, they fled without a second thought.

Angel growled and snarled at them all, cursing the fact that they were all still alive and his beloved was not. One slayer thought she was tough shit and got in his face about it. She made very good friends with the dirt and grass outside of the Hyperion. Nobody went up against him after that as he yelled at them all, exposing their carelessness and hate for his slayer. Deny it they did, but prove that they looked for her, they could not. Mainly, he had gotten on Willow, Xander, and Giles, blaming them more then any of the others. They were supposed to watch out for each other, keep each other safe. Only Buffy had not come out of the fight alive. He cared not for his childe, who he should have killed years before.

Isolated, he mourned his slayer, almost ignoring everything else. Cordelia had reminded him of her visions, that there were still people to help, but he couldn't have cared less.

"Buffy wouldn't want this, Angel. She would have wanted you to keep on living. If not to help other people then to just keep her spirit alive."

He had sobbed at Cordelia's heartfelt words, knowing they were truth, but being unable to deal with the world knowing that without her in it, there was nothing left for him. If he had gotten his shanshu, what did it matter now? He didn't have his blonde goddess to share it with. He had overheard Connor speaking to Cordelia about her, and had almost killed his son just for speaking about his beloved. Cordelia had been screaming for minutes before he realized what he was doing; his hands wrapped about his son's neck, choking him and yelling at him to stop talking about her. He was losing his mind.

"Visions."

He needed something to kill. Anyone to take his heartache and pain out on.

-+-+-+-+-+-

They spread her legs violently, a green bumpy cock thrusting into her dry heat. She cried out, thrashing as the fifth demon of the morning fucked her for all she was worth. When would it be over? When would the endless fucks and the mind numbing beatings cease? She was lying bare naked on a makeshift bed made out of hay and leaves found around the dusty and dank cell. The demon swore in another language, bending it's head down and catching her breast in it's mouth. She screamed as she felt it's sharp teeth ripping open the skin, and felt repulsed as he began drinking her blood. He was so deep inside her that she could almost feel him inside of her stomach, pounding into her without mercy. She tugged on the manacles around her wrists and screamed, feeling the demon release it's cold seed inside her. She felt it leak out from between her thighs and she cried, clamping them together.

"No more, no more," she pleaded, hoping beyond all hope that one of them would grant her mercy.

They all laughed at her, another demon coming in to take the others place. She could hear herself screaming, crying out for someone to help her as she felt the long tongue of the red demon touch her outer lips. Her hips bucked, maneuvering themselves away from the unwanted touches, but he grabbed her by her hips and held her still as his tongue slid inside of her folds, getting her slick with it's saliva. She grunted as she felt him fucking her with his mouth, wanting her to like it, but not allowing her any pleasure. He took his mouth away from her pussy momentarily and gave her inner thigh a lick, right where her artery was. She jerked, her skin crawling with disgust and displeasure. He bit down on her, sucking the blood from the wound eagerly.

She knew this would never end. It never did. All the demons from all over the world lined up to get a taste of the slayer.

_Beat her all you want. Fuck her as hard as you want. Drink as much as you please. She can't fight back, and she'll never die. Have your way with the whore of the underworld! _

All she wished for was to go home, for the pain to stop. They tortured her, they beat her, they raped her, they did things to her she didn't even know existed. She didn't know how she got there, but she knew that wherever she was, it definitely somewhere in hell. There was no other explanation. The only thing she wondered was why? Why her?

"Flip her over," he commanded, and they obeyed.

She screamed horsely as she felt her shoulder dislocating from their force, her arms twisting so she was laying on her stomach instead of her back. Her body shook from the pain, her left arm now pulled above her head at a weird angle, pulled from it's socket. The demon payed no mind. He ran his long tongue from her slick with salvia folds up her firm ass, making sure she was ready for him. He grabbed his cock in his hand and shoved the tip of it in her ass, her scream contributing to his groan to pleasure. Without another thought, he rammed himself inside her, grabbing her by the back of her neck and violently fucking her ass, ripping her open.

She tried her best to ignore the pain, but she felt him inside her, felt the blood and cum rushing down her legs, and she cried.

"Slayers not so tough now, is she?"

One laughed as they others joined in, the humiliation adding to her tears. She was the fucking slayer and getting used and abused by the things she was supposed to kill. Another demon came to stand in front of her, grabbing her face in his hands and forcing her mouth open. The first time one of them had done that to her, she bit off whatever they shoved in her mouth, or she attempted to. Turns out, the slayer is not so much a slayer wherever it was that she now lived, and she only gave him a nasty bruise. He gave her a beating. This demon forced his cock in his mouth, pumping himself into her gagging orifice. She shook her head, trying to move him out, but he held strong onto her head, unwilling to let her go.

As the demon in front of her forced himself down her throat, another demon - vampire this time - came around and kneeled down in front of her, capturing her breasts in both of his hands. She couldn't move. She couldn't scream. She couldn't fight. She was, for lack of a better word, helpless. He played with her pert nipples, bringing them to their erect peak before biting down on them, getting all the delicious blood he wanted from her. Her cries were muffled, and she audibly gagged on the semen that poured down her throat. His hips jerked into her face, and when he finally slid out of her mouth, she gasped for air, almost suffocating from crying and gagging. The large red demon behind her gripped her neck tightly, pulling her back against him as he came into her unwilling ass. She yelled, her dislocated arm pulling farther and farther away from her body with every movement.

She heard someone clapping and realized it was the boss. She breathed a sigh of relief as all of the demons moved away from her, the vampire giving her nipples another lick and nip before walking away from her.

"Alright, boys. We need to pretty up the slayer for the next batch of saps."

They knew what that meant. All ten of them, begrudgingly leaving the slayer behind as they exited her cell. The leader lingered behind, smoking a cigar and looking over her body. This had been a nicer group of demons; more bite marks, but less beatings. She wouldn't be very pleased with the next batch. She glanced over at him, taking in his appearance. He was standing calmly before her, dressed in an expensive business suit and fancy shoes. He walked over to her and freed her hands, her body rippling once again with the pain from the recent activities her body had gone through. She was dripping cum from everywhere; she was covered in it, and there was a small puddle of blood on the floor by her legs. He knew she was in an extreme amount of pain, but frankly, he couldn't care less.

"Stand up."

She looked up at him from her place on the floor, her limbs shaky as she forced them to cooperate with her. She knew what he was about to do to her. After he was finished with her, he'd call Serj back to fix her up. She thought back to the demon and remembered his words quite clearly; '_That's what they intended for you. And they'll do worse later.' _ God, he was not kidding. She balanced herself on her shaky legs, leaning up against the cold stone wall of her cell. Her shoulder was swollen and unusable, and she hissed as she moved around, the useless limb moving on its own accord. He stood in front of her, sticking the cigar in his mouth and bringing his hand down to the swollen flesh between her legs. She threw her head back against the wall, closing her eyes at the contact. She wished...

"When your boy finally comes for you," he whispered to her, his fingers moving against her cum soaked folds. She grimaced, blocking out his rough touches. "I will rip from him what is not rightfully his and watch as the demon rips you apart, bit by bit."

He pulled back from her and she sighed audibly, her legs finally giving way as her body slid down to the cold, dirty covered floor. He walked out without a second glance, removing the cigar from his mouth and licking his fingers as he tasted her, tasted her fear, and tasted her pain. He cared not that ten demons had just fucked her senseless; he had only tasted her. She let out a small cry, cradling her wounded arm in her hand and rocked herself back and forth. She only wished it would stop.

-+-+-+-+-+-

**Yup, know it's short, I know it's been years, but it's something right? Reviews, comments, critique, whatever is all welcomed and appreciated. Do not worry, my other stories will be updated shortly. **


	3. Chapter 3

I 'eard those ugly blokes talkin' bout the slayers 'Matris Sapor.' Matris Sapor? I'm rackin' my pretty blonde head tryin' to remember what this means 'cause anything involving 'er--it can't be good. For some bloody reason, I can't remember what Matris means, but I'm pretty sure Sapor means 'eat.' Or is it 'lick?' Bloody 'ell, why'd it 'ave to go an' be in Latin? I 'aven't 'eard Latin in the longest time...bollocks. I 'ave to get out of this cage. I 'ave to get past the pansy-assed looking guards. I 'ave to find Buffy. I know it's Buffy that they 'ave captive. I can smell 'er all over these 'ere guards...'nd even some 'o the other cell dwellers smell o' her. Fuck...fuck! I can't get out 'cause they've got me chained up by the ankle an' aside from my bare 'ands I've got no way of even makin' it to 'er cell...wherever that may be.

She saw me die. They showed 'er an illusion to make 'er vulnerable, to give themselves an opening. Well, they had their bloody opening and they took the slayer down. What was it for? Who the bloody hell knows?

I sigh and rest my 'ead against the cold bars. They're goin' to kill me. My last request? To see the slayer before they chop off my 'ead.

"Oh, lookie 'ere," I taunt weakly, seeing the usual night guard approach. "We caught ourselves a big one."

He smacks the bars with some kind of electric baton 'nd I fall back. Asshole. He smirks at me 'nd I pick myself up slowly. He doesn't give a shit whether or not I eat. I 'aven't eaten in days! I'm as weak as a puppy dog! He opens the lock 'nd walks in, sending a cripplin' blow to my face with the baton. Bastards got a good arm. Stumblin', I lean against the bars across from 'im, the bloody chains not allowin' me much runnin' space.

"Time's up, Spikey," he says my name with mock respect, 'nd I growl at 'im--he ignores me. I'm no longer a threat. "I'm gonna take ya to see the slayer, then you're going straight the incinerator."

I straighten m'self up 'nd the fight drains out of me. I'm 'bout to see 'er. 'nd this'll be the very last time. He sees the fight leave me 'nd then gives me a nice whack on the back o' my head for kicks. I feel the electric course through my body, squirmin' in my 'ead. I yell 'nd blackout. Bloody bastard.

When I wake, I'm no longer in my old cell. I'm lyin' on my back, free from chains--'bout bloody time! I sit up, 'nd my 'ead is killin' me. Bloody 'ell. When my eyes finally adjust, I see 'er...

I'm stunned for a second, jus' watchin' the scene 'fore me; 'er 'ands are tied behind 'er back, forced on 'er knees, ridin' this ugly gray demon. I let out a roar deafenin' to my own ears 'nd charge--a barrier blocks my path. I bang on the obstruction, 'avin' no choice but to watch as the slayer gets raped by some--

"Scream, slayer. I want to hear you scream."

'nd she does so. I've never 'eard such a sound come from 'er. She sounds hoarse now. She must've been screaming for days. My eyes are glued to 'er. Buffy...my poor Buffy. I can't do a soddin' thing to save 'er. She's the last thing I see as I feel somethin' impale my chest from behind.

-+-+-+-+-+-

Heavy footsteps echoed in the empty hall, distant screams the only proof of life in the dark chamber. A large hand gripped the doorknob of the farthest door, pulling it open with supernatural strength. He waltzed into the room, brushing past all the men who stand before him. Some cursed in languages he didn't care to identify, some just averted their eyes. He walked with a certain grace, and everyone around him knew he was not one to be messed with. Before him sat Безмолвный Смерть, the man in charge. He was a large, Russian man, a cigar placed in his mouth, moving not one bit when he spoke. His name? It was Russian for Silent Death. Not exactly the best man to get in a fight with, but in this case, there was no other way. He was the boss, master of all.

"Garaspin's everto parvulus est ingenero in trucido. Panton videor ut exsisto iens puteus. Vos vadum sumo matris sapor in haud vicis, vinco," he kneeled down in front of the larger man, showing his submission towards the master.

He nodded his head to him, a sign that he could now stand, and responded, "Valde puteus, Lucian. Tunc panton vadum vado ut intentio."

He waved him off and Lucian nodded in return, standing from his submissive position and exited the way he came. Things were certainly looking up, and in a very big way.

-+-+-+-+-+-

She laid on the dirt covered cellar, her body shaking with cold and sweat. Her arms protectively covering herself, her swelling belly becoming more and more bigger every day. She didn't understand. How could she be pregnant? The only intercourse she had was when those demons...raped her, and even then, demons couldn't have kids. Right? Obviously, that was untrue. She was pregnant, and it was a demons child. Oh, god, a demons child. Her tears fell from her eyes rapidly, falling into the soft dirt below her. How could she let this happen? She was the slayer and she was allowing demons to have complete control over her and her body. It had been hundreds of years since she went missing and now she was positive nobody was coming for her. Nobody was coming in, guns blazing to save the slayer once again.

What had she done to deserve this? Captured by demons, used as a punching bag, a whore...what could she had possibly done? This 'matris sapor' was only one thing she had heard them ever talking about, but she knew that they had much more then just that planned for her. Every time they looked at her with their hungry, red hot eyes she knew. She was never getting out of there. She couldn't even kill herself. But, suicide was looking better and better every day. Even then, she'd just be the shell of Buffy. Who was Buffy anyway? Buffy was long gone, just a distant memory with three hundred years of abuse and torture. Even her english was long gone with time. She could grunt, cry, scream, keen, whimper, and say 'sorry'. Oh, they made sure she could at least say one word when they were beating her bloody, wanting the almighty slayer as submissive as possible. What is a more submissive word then 'sorry'? She used to remember 'please', but now, only sometimes, 'please' comes out as a whimper. She doesn't remember the meanings of the words, she doesn't remember how, or why she was in this particular hell, but she did remember that these were monsters. Monsters that she was made to kill, but now she couldn't. But her dreams, when they weren't nightmares full of rape and blood, sent her pictures of a beautiful golden angel, one that wield a sword and killed all the monsters that hurt her. The angel would help her, save her, but then, he turned out to be just like them. He would rape her, kill her, hurt her, and then, the golden angel burst into flames, leaving nothing but her and some ash.

She hated dreaming and she hated sleep. She hated anything that led her to believe there would be a way out. She knew this was her future. For eternity.

-+-+-+-+-+-

He dreamt of a beast. A golden beast that crawled on all fours, but had no fur. It growled and snarled, but when he got close it whimpered and backed away from him. He didn't understand. Was this just another prophetic dream warning him of a new breed of demon? Half demon, half man? As he stared, the golden beast began looking more and more like a person, a scared, frightened person. It didn't speak, it didn't cry out to him, it just huddled the the corner of the white room they were in, hiding from him unsuccessfully. It was naked, it's skin shining a harsh bright color, almost blinding him if he stared too long.

He sat up in bed, searching the room frantically. Where'd the golden being go? He wanted to ask it some questions, see if it needed help. In a chair across from his bed sat Fred, reading a book quietly, a small lamp beside her. She looked up at him, a small smile gracing her soft features.

"Hey. You're awake," she stretched slightly, placing the book down beside her on the floor. "How are you feeling?"

He grunted at her, laying back down heavily. He couldn't deal with their questions, their scrutinizing gazes. Every day it was a different person, he wasn't surprised that today, it was Fred. She was the only one that had not been assaulting him constantly with questions, knowing firsthand how it felt to be overwhelmed like that. Today was the four month anniversary of Buffy's death. The others knew better then to speak to him on such a day like today.

She stood from the chair, her hands clenched tightly in front of her in nervousness. She looked from him to the container of blood at his bedside, hoping against hope that he would drink some today. He hadn't been eating at all the past few months and it was beginning to take a toll on him.

"You hungry? I brought you up some blood," she paused in case he felt like responding. He didn't. "Cordelia said you like it warm, so I heated it, but I-I don't think it's very hot anymore."

When she still got no reaction from him she walked over to the bed, sitting down at the foot of it. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her guts. The next words from her mouth could cost her, her life.

"Cordelia said that...Buffy used to heat it for you," he tensed next to her, and she was prepared to flee if she had to. "She said after a while, you'd only eat it warm, because it reminded you of her. Of how much you...loved her."

The tenseness in his body began to leak out, and tentatively, she placed her hand on his leg.

"She wouldn't want you to do this, Angel. She loved you. She wouldn't want you to do this to yourself. Imagine what she would say."

There was silence for a few moments before she heard a heartbreaking sob.

"Who cares what she would say? She's dead. She can't do anything about anything I do now. There's no reason for me to go on."

She stared at him, his words sinking in. That was the most he had spoken in over three and a half months. To anyone. Scooting closer to him, she patted his hand supportingly, and for once, he didn't pull away from her. His excuse was that he couldn't stand human contact. They knew it was because he didn't want to feel the warmth of anyone because now, he would never feel Buffy's warmth again.

"But there is, Angel. You have to go on. For Connor. For Dawn," he closed his eyes tightly at the thought of his beloved's sister. She was as distraught as he was at Buffy's death. "And for Buffy. Buffy's spirit, her love, still lives within you. If you die, you're taking a bit of her with you. Please, Angel. You have to live for her. For Dawn, and for Connor. They need you. We need you."

-+-+-+-+-+-

Her legs shook as she stood blindfolded, her hands tied behind her back, a gag in her mouth. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her tears streaming down her cheeks, leaving glistening trails as they streaked her dirt covered face. She could hear them speaking, but had absolutely no clue what they were saying. She didn't even know how many monsters there were in the room. She cried out softly when she felt cool metal pressed to her breast, near piercing her skin. The object slid slowly down, stopping at the large curve of her belly. Even though the baby would be evil, it would be ugly, it would be a demon, it was still hers. She pulled her body away, trying to escape the weapon that threatened to cut into her, but her back just met a hard chest, and she was held in place. The dagger slid inside her stomach easily, and she screamed at the searing pain. She was held still as the ritual began, her blood seeping down into a cup they placed at the bottom of her stomach.

Two cold hands grabbed at each breast, squeezing and kneading them. Her body arched into them as they began to leak, her mother's milk squirting about. Again, a cup caught what they wanted as her stomach continued to bleed, and her breasts leaked. Her body shook helplessly from the pain, from the sensations. She knew there were many monsters in the room, their voices overlapping each others. Suddenly, her body jerked. Something was touching her. She couldn't identify what it was, since it was touching her in a way she hadn't been touched in years. It wasn't hurting her, it was...caressing her. Squirming, her tears flowed faster, her breath hitching.

"Sorry..." she cried, hoping that it would please them.

She heard their laughter and knew that she had failed. They were not pleased. The caresses continued and she began to feel her body responding. It felt good, but she knew it wasn't supposed to. She knew that this was not for her. Her body thrashed as the gentle caresses slipped between her thighs, rubbing her increasingly slick pussy. A soft cry passed her lips, her legs unconsciously spreading wider for the intrusion. She knew better then to fight. It would just cause her more pain and more agony. The wound on her belly was no longer bleeding, and it was almost as if it was healing. Then, it must have been from the monster growing inside of her. Her juices ran down her thighs, and she could feel yet another person touching her, collecting the fluid. She didn't understand. What was the point of all of this? Before she knew what was happening, the caresses turned frantic, and stars flashed before her eyes, orgasm after orgasm threatening to push her over the edge into unconsciousness. Her hips bucked wildly, her own screaming voice foreign to her own ears.

"Matris sapor!" she heard them speak, and knew that it had to do with her. Everything did. "The mother's taste!"

She heard a round of laughter and cheers, the erotic touches finally ending. She slumped down to her knees, her body shaking in pleasure and pain. Another grabbed her, pushing her down on her back. She laid obediently, waiting for punishment. There was never anything but, so what made this time any different? The blows came hard and fast, mostly just to her stomach. She screamed hoarsely, her body curling up trying to protect herself. She felt her face swelling and could taste blood in her mouth. Her stomach felt like someone was ripping her open. It hurt, oh god, did it hurt.

"Sorry! Sorry!"

She cried out, her body jerking with spasms of pain, but the blows were never ending. She never saw who attacked her, or what happened in that room. All she felt was pain, and with death on her tongue, she slipped into painless unconsciousness.

-+-+-+-+-+-

When she woke again, she found herself in her old cell. Her body didn't ache, her mouth no longer filled with blood. She sat up slowly and looked down at herself; no baby. Had they taken it from her? Killed it painfully? Were they keeping it for some sick reason? How could she not have known that her child was gone? Had she been out for that long? Looking around the cell, she noticed a shadow in the far corner. There, stood Lucien, a crooked smile on his face. She had no idea who he was or what he wanted, but when he lifted up his hand, she knew. There, grasped in his large hand was her child, long dead. She cried, curling up into herself. She didn't want to see this. She didn't want to know. It looked human, it looked as if it would have been healthy. A boy. Bit by bit, he ate it, deliberately looking her dead in the eye as he did so. She looked away many times, sobbing and screaming, but he just stared, wanting to soak in her pain. It felt good.

By time he was done, she was hysterical, and he was covered in her son's blood. In a flash he was on her, buried deep inside her heat. How did he get inside of her so quickly? How did he get her down? She screeched as he thrusted himself inside of her dry, tight passage, her muscles trying to keep him out, but failing miserably. He laughed as he continued to fuck her. This was his reward. Time alone with the one they called the slayer. Then, she'd be right back where she was before; a demon whore.

-+-+-+-+-+-

**Okay, I know this is a little fucked up, and I know that I look a little fucked up for writing it, but we're getting somewhere with this. Really. This won't be the whole story. I mean, it's a big part of it, but Angel will be swooping in eventually to help out our favorite little slayer. Hang in there, guys. **


	4. Chapter 4

She trudged up the front steps of the Hyperion, dragging her weary, unwilling body, forcing it to go further. It felt like it had been weeks since she slept, months since she ate - she felt as if she couldn't go on. But, as she looked up at the large doors of the hotel, she knew she had to keep going. She had to see him. She had so much to tell him. Her sister... she... Buffy, she left him a letter. God, she finally found it after weeks of not even looking at the things she left behind. Inside of Mr Gordo was a letter; one simple, small letter with her quick script scrawled on the front - Angel. She cried when she saw it, knowing that Angel would die when he found out. Well, hopefully not literally.

She had seen Angel when Buffy first... died, and neither of them could barely do anything much less talk to one another. Willow had dragged her along as they went to tell Angel the news. News. Like that's all her sister was to them. Well, she had sat there in complete silence as Angel tore them to pieces, ripping them apart bit by bit for letting her big sister die. For letting _his _slayer die. She remembered that day very clearly. She had sat on one of Angel's very nice plush couches and watched as he yelled at them without care, making them feel worse them she was sure they'd ever felt before. He kept referring to Buffy as his. His slayer. His mate. She never fully realized it until she died, the second time, how much Angel really depended on her. Buffy was his everything. They had made promises, plans, they had started building a future together when she told him that she needed him as a second front against the first incase they failed. She knew he regretted leaving her now.

She forced her arm to raise, grabbing hold of the doorknob with a heavy limb. She didn't want to face him; she couldn't. He was broken, she was broken, together they were two dismembered people who could never be put back together. His life, her life - gone in the rubble formally known as Sunnydale, California. Her grip was loose on the knob, and wasn't surprised when the door swung open with animal speed, barely affecting her stance or composure.

It was him. God, he looked like he- well, he looked bad. Dark circles were under his eyes - she didn't even know vampires could have coloring under their eyes, or in general for that matter. And he was definitely thinner then before. Why hadn't they been forcing him to eat? He needed to eat. He was hunched over, as if he was in pain, which he probably was because so was she. She reached out to him, her weak and skinny arms wrapping around his thinning neck. He moved not an inch as she attached herself to him, holding him tight against her. His hand remained on the opened doors knob, his other weakly hanged at his side. He began to feel her hot tears sliding down his shoulder and underneath his shirt, soaking it with her sorrow. He was dead, in oh so many ways, and couldn't express anything anymore. All he wanted to do is sleep and then wake up beside his beloved, realizing everything had just been a nightmare.

"How'd you know... I was at the door?"

She sniffled, her tears beginning to cease, but her hold on him tightening. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back his own tears and pain.

"I-I thought," he choked, finally grabbing hold of her as if she was his lifeline. "I thought she came to me. I thought she... came home to me."

He cried into her hair, his arms wrapping around her fully, holding her closer as he poured his heart out to her. His Buffy, his mate, was never coming back. No matter how hard he wished, no matter how hard he prayed, she would never find her way back to him. He lost his balance and he fell to his knees, his keening sobs echoing through the empty lobby. She ran her fingers through his hair as she began to cry again, knowing they both needed this. They needed each other, because they were the others connection to Buffy. He held her heart in his own, and she held her soul. Together they two held the remains of the longest living slayer. A beloved sister, lover, mate, friend.

At the sounds of the distressed vampire, the gang rushed out, Cordelia leading the group. Seeing the young brunette comforting him, Cordelia stopped dead in her tracks, causing the others behind her to stop as well. They all watched as the remaining loves of Buffy the vampire slayer mourned, curled up on the floor together, bared to all who wished to intrude on their moment of grieving. With one more longing glance, Cordy ushered them out, leaving the duo to mourn.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-

"She had this for you. I found it in Mr Gordo."

She reached inside her duffle bag, pulling out a small envelope with his name scribbled on the front. He took it from her hesitantly, his hands shaking ever so slightly. They sat on his bed, she with her legs crossed leaning against the headboard and he, hunched over the edge of the bed, his posture tense. Slowly, he ripped it opened, the sound echoing throughout the eerily silent room. With gut wrenching slowness he slipped the paper from it's confines, unfolding it even slower. She made sure to keep to herself, not to intrude on his private moment with whatever he had left of her sister.

His eyes scanned over her delicate handwriting, a messy scrawl only proving that she had said things from the heart, forcing herself to write what she really wanted to say, not what she thought he wanted to hear.

_I love you. _

He shut his eyes, blocking out the tears, Too many tears. When do they stop? When do they dry up?

_One day, we'll live happily ever after -_

Oh god, the tears don't stop. Why don't they stop? Please...

_- and adopt many cute babies. _

Why do people have tear ducts? Tears aren't the only way people express sorrow. What about the pain he felt in his heart? In his soul?

_We'll be happy and make love day and night. _

The pain... it doesn't dull, it doesn't go away. He wanted it to stop, but the only way for it to stop is for Buffy to come home. If the pain stopped without her... it wasn't right.

_We'll live somewhere secluded, where just me, you, and the millions of little babies we adopted will live._

He wanted her back.

_Okay, maybe not millions, but at least two. Can we have two? _

Why couldn't he have her back?

_Anyway, there will be lots and lots of sex, and lots and lots of food. Chocolate and strawberries and - _

If he could he would have thrown up. He dropped the paper, and it floated delicately down, landing with a soft crumple at his feet. Why did they have to take her away from him?

-+-+-+-+-+-+-

They were both fast asleep. When Cordelia had checked on them, Dawn had her body wrapped around his and he... well, he was just laying there. Emotionally disconnected from even her little sister. At least he was eating a bit more now. And Dawnie... little Dawnie. She was more dedicated to keeping him alive, she had barely been keeping her own health in check. Well, Cordelia was going to see that she fixed the both of them to the best of her abilities. First off, she was going to feed them both until they were so stuffed they could no longer walk. Then she was going to make sure they spoke more, even if they just spoke to each other, as long as they communicated with someone.

Smiling slightly to herself, she made her way from the bedroom to the kitchen downstairs, convinced that her TLC would work. How could it not? Early morning hours sucked, and she'd come to that conclusion the moment she walked into the dark kitchen. Everything was too quiet and way too dark. But, now that Dawn was also staying with them for a while, she had to wake up even earlier to keep an eye on the both of them. Suicide watch for a vampire and an ex-key. Oh, yeah, her job wasn't weird at all.

Flicking on the light switch, she moved around the kitchen with ease, pulling out the things she'd need to nourish the starving vampire and the shrinking girl. Eggs, milk, bacon, seasonings, blood; check! She went about preparing Dawn's breakfast first, not that she'd been eating all of it exactly, but what did that matter? She began scrambling the egg when she felt a headache coming on. She automatically assumed it was from the extreme stress she'd been under the past couple months; Buffy's death, taking care of Angel and Dawn... it was tiring. And she hadn't had a vision in weeks. Not like it would make a difference anyway. Angel still wouldn't go out fighting, even if Dawn begged him to try and get back into the swing of things.

The second egg in her hand dropped to the floor, cracking with a sickening thud. She grabbed hold of the counter, in need of some serious balance. With a scream, she flung her body against whatever was nearest, the pain beginning to get overwhelming. She fell, both hands gripping at her head as images passed by her in a flash; blood, blood, death, hands - so many hands, sem-

She dry heaved, her body jerking spastically as the tremors of pain rippled through her body.

Angel jolted awake, the girl laying next to him, jerked and finally woke, stretching lazily. He sat alert, faintly hearing a high pitched noise. A scream? As quick as his tired body would allow him, he got up from his bed, and made his way over to the door. Opening it slightly, he peeked out, making sure that whatever was out there stayed away from his beloveds sister. His only connection... Then he heard it again, louder. A scream. Cordelia.

"Cordy!," he yelled as he ran out his bedroom door and down the steps of the hotel lobby, searching for her location. Another scream lead him in the right direction; the kitchen. He rushed in, her writhing body still on the floor, only the aftermath of her vision effecting her. He rushed over to her, kneeling next to her, now still body.

"Cordy," he whispered, cradling her in his arms, the first time he'd allowed himself human contact aside from Dawn. "Cordy, wake up," he shook her ever so slightly, her still form unresponsive. "I can't lose you too. Please, Cordelia..."

Her body shuddered and her eyes finally began to open. He silently thanked whatever gods or powers that be that were watching and continued to hold her, unwilling to let her go until he was convinced she was still fully alive.

"Angel," she groaned, her feelings fully coming back to her. "Angel, it's her. It's her..."

He let go as she tried to sit up, her aching body leaning against the leg of the table. Bit by bit, her vision returned to her, pictures of dirty blonde hair, blood covered naked bodies, hands against flesh, rape - so much rape. Screaming, crying, killing,,,Buffy. No, it wasn't possible. Not at all, was it possible. She was dead. She's been dead for months. But, she was absolutely positive that the girl she saw was Buffy. It was Buffy.

She breathed deep, watching as Angel watched her intently, damn near studying her in worry. She was glad he was even slightly opening up to her, but what she had to tell him overshadowed her newfound feeling. She was going to have to tell him that Buffy was alive and in serious trouble.

"She's... she needs..."

She tried to catch her breath enough to tell him, but even then, if she could, oh god... Tears sprang to her eyes, overflowing quickly and spilling down her cheeks. She held her head in her hands, sobbing outwardly as the pictures connected fully, showing the fate of the blonde slayer if they didn't do anything. Even if she was dead, she would have been peaceful. Only thinking about where she had been for so long...

"She needs you, Angel," she cried, her breath hitching in her throat. "She needs you to save her."

He watched her, beginning to keep his distance from her again. She was alright, now, she couldn't leave him too. His dark, emotionless eyes watched her, the confusion in his stare barely noticeable through his dead gaze.

"Cordelia... you know I can't. I just... c-"

"It's Buffy!," she cried, her hands covered her mouth, still unable to read the emotion in his dead, cold eyes.

He held back tears as he replayed when she said over and over again in his head. He thought she was his friend... how could she say a thing like that? What kind of sick joke was she playing on him? She reached out to touch him ever so slightly, but he jerked away as if she came at him with a cross doused in holy water.

"Don't. Just... don't."

"Angel, I'm not doing this to hurt you. S-she needs you. Please, listen!"

"Why would you say something like that?"

She had never heard his voice so small, so broken. But, she knew she had to tell him. Nobody else could save the slayer but him. She needed him.

"Angel, she's not dead, please. Listen to me. You need to go to her. She's-"

"No!"

He screamed, standing up from where he was crouched in front of her. As he stood there in front of her, he looked like some wild, wounded animal, ready to go in for the kill if threatened any further. He wouldn't believe her...

"No."

-+-+-+-+-+-+-

"Warrior, why do you refuse the visions of your seer?"

He stood before the powers, his head hung low, his posture frigid. They had summoned him and he had refused. They wouldn't take no for an answer and they forced him to see them; in his dreams.

"They aren't real. What she saw couldn't have been real."

"But it was," the male bellowed, the room shaking with the force of his voice.

He flinched, tears springing to his eyes. If it was true, how could the powers allow their greatest warrior to be sent to wherever she was? Go through whatever she was going through?

"We have no control over alternate dimensions. You will have to save the slayer yourself."

"How?," he finally broke, giving in. Everyone was telling him she was alive - she needed him...

"We cannot tell you how, only where," the female spoke, much more softer then the male. "She is in a dimension known as Cuvaye. You must go right away."

-+-+-+-+-+-+

**Angel is in all kinds of denial. Next chappie up in a few days. BDK will be updated soon also. Sit tight, friends. I'm sorry for the looong update, but hopefully this month will be the update month. **


End file.
